


The Road (Goes Ever On and On)

by daniko



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your front door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." More than most, Bilbo Baggins knows what he speaks of . . . although, to be fair, he might have at least warned Frodo <i>before</i> they set out to the Lonely Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Home and Kin

**Author's Note:**

> We shall start at the beginning (and then wing it): the aftermath of the Battle of Five Armies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 001 - wicked

_There are wicked things in this world_ , thinks Thorin, son of Thráin, as he picks one of those "things" and leaves it in a growing pile to be burned to cinders later; but the worst of those, he now realises, are the ones that come from within.

There is shame in his soul and the certainty he has failed his people. In a desperate attempt at attonement, he works. There are bodies to burn and fields to clear away, before the nature can cleanse the land of hatred.

Thorin thinks doing it alone would be no more than he deserved.

*

It's Dís who finally comes for him.

Everyone else has been in the receiving end of Thorin's fraying temper in the last few days: Balin knows not to mention his weakened state, Fili knows not to bother him with nutrition (or lack thereof) and Kili remains away, all too aware of how Thorin cannot bear to see his ruined face. (Kili, his precious nephew, the one who should have been protected at all costs, who should never have come to battle; Thorin has failed him so badly.)

"Are you done yet?" Dís asks.

"No rest for the wicked," Thorin replies.

*

Dís promptly whacks him in the head with her sheathed sword.

Thorin grunts in shock and glances up at his sister, only to meet a glare so similar to his own he might as well be looking in a mirror. He scowls. "What was that for?"

"The dramatics!" Thorin grunts again and returns to his work, but Dís will not give up. "You are no coward, Thorin Oakenshield, and you shall not hide from your people. Or your sister, I might say!"

"You do not understand," he says.

Dís scoffs. "I know plenty of the wicked things in the world."

*

Thorin thinks himself so burdened with purpose and tragedy, he forgets Dís was at his side for most of it. She says, "I've seen many wicked things with my own two eyes. I've seen sickness of the kind one cannot fight consume those I loved. I've seen my husband's flesh burned from his bones. I've seen the egotism of my own kin. I've worked and slaved away in cities of Men who would not respect me because of what I have between my legs. I know you do not fit in with any of those things, my brother. My liege."

*

Thorin swallows the feeling in his throat.

Dís' eyes are kind when she says, "I know your heart weights with shame. I know you feel as if you cannot lift your head and look your kin in the eye; or into your sister-son's face. You fear their judgement, my judgement."

Thorin whispers, "I do. So many dead. So many grieving. Elves and Men looking down on us, guessing us mindless with greed. The halfling . . . ." He can say no more.

Dís sighs, holds Thorin by the shoulders and leans her forehead on his. "No wicked man can feel so much regret."

*

"No wicked man can lead his kin into battle, side by side with the elf who betrayed our kindred; and with the man who took what did not belong to him."

Thorin doesn't pull away. He confesses, "I do not know if I was fighting for my home and kin or gold and stones."

"Does it matter, when grief has set your heart right?" Dís asks.

"Of course it does!" Thorin explodes, rearing back. "What is to say it won't happen again?"

"Your family won't let it, nor shall your friends."

Thorin asks, "Do I even have any of those?"

*

"Friends?" Dís clarifies. Thorin nods. "They are in no place to judge, blind as they were by the glittering gold. Fools, all of you!" she spits. Then, she takes a breath, smooths her skirts and says, "They are loyal, brother. And no one else knows. They sing your virtues. They want you sitting on the throne."

"Fili and Kili?"

Dís smiles sadly. "They think you're angry with them."

Thorin sets his jaw, growls, "I would never!"

"They think they have been wicked, the precious idiots." She eyes him shrewdly. "But that's not what you _really_ want to know, is it?"

*

Thorin does not bother to deny it, but Dís doesn't take pity on him, just as she never did. "He is what bothers you, isn't it? The halfling? You know a dwarf's heart, you know how we value home and kin above all things. You think we could forgive the weakness of your mind at the sight of it within your grasp, of what has been violently taken away from you being returned. It's the halfling that bothers you, because you cannot pretend the dragon's wicked disease didn't grip your heart, when you willfully went against it! Does he know?"

*

"If he does, he guessed it," Thorin says. "The things I did and the things I said, sister. I was taken in by wicked urges. I _am_ ashamed. I thought I was purer of heart. I am," he hesitates, speaking quietly, "unworthy. I am undeserving of our people's admiration."

Dís offers kindly, "You will be a brave, honourable king, my brother. I know you can defeat it, now that you know the enemy." A queer glint enters her eyes. "As for your burglar, he's been wringing his hands in your tent for the past four days. All is not lost."

*

"If the halfing had less heart, he wouldn't forgive me. As well as he should!"

"That is his decision to make," Dís counters, "and you must trust his judgement. Just as you must trust your people's loyalty. I promise none of us would accept you, if we didn't know in our hearts that you will never fail us twice in the same manner. Our faith shall not waver, even when yours do."

Thorin whispers reverently, "Dís."

Dís wipes the tears from her cheeks. "Now, have you eaten today?" Thorin's silence was damning enough. "Wicked dwarf! There's where we shall start."


	2. A Day for Laughter and Merriment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo couldn't exactly settle down in Erebor after the Battle without making at least some arrangements in Hobbiton. This is what happens when he returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 002 - laughter
> 
> This whole series is a study in self-indulgence. I don't even know.

"How long are you planning on staying, Master Baggins? Arrangements must be made depending on the answer."

Bilbo Baggins froze in the process of unpacking. Thorin sported that familiar set of jaw which implied he was a dwarf on a mission and would not be deviated from it. Bilbo replied, "I planned on staying for as long as I'm welcome."

"You said that last time."

"Yes, well. I had a home and relations and, and—well, for your information, they were auctioning my things!"

Thorin's lips twitched. Bilbo giggled and Thorin's chuckles grew louder, until they were both roaring with laughter.

*

That was the scene Fili and Kili walked into, eyebrows raised with surprise.

"Fussy little hobbit," Thorin commented fondly.

Bilbo bristled. "I am of perfectly average height, mind you!"

Kili giggled behind his hands and Fili's eyes sported a most wicked glint. It reminded Bilbo of Thorin's sister. Thorin himself let out a self-depricating laugh. "I come here on a mission, Master Baggins, and as usual you make me forget myself."

"If your mission was sulking at some perceived slight, I'll thank you to keep it to yourself!"

"Do you," Thorin asked forcefully, "perhaps plan on staying permanently, Master Baggins?"

*

Bilbo's heart was doing strange things. It remineded him of his tween years and Mimosa Brandybuck's laughter. Perhaps he ought to have eaten less for elevensies. (Bombur had been so helpful. Bilbo couldn't have denied him in good conscience.)

Fili and Kili looked between them eagerly, much to Bilbo's chagrin.

"You are very welcome in Erebor, Master Baggins," Thorin said. It was always so special to see an echo of kindness behind Thorin's solemn eyes. "But these quarters would no longer suit."

"The upper floors have been rebuilt," said Fili.

"You ought to be with us, Master Baggins!" said Kili.

*

There was laughter in Kili's eyes as he looked from Bilbo to Thorin. It warmed Bilbo's heart to see it. Just a year ago, after the battle and before Bilbo left, there had been a sadness about him which had weighed heavily on Bilbo's mind. The scar that went from his left temple to his jawline had become him. When Bilbo looked back, he found Thorin watching him intently.

Bilbo smiled at him. "What a dangerous business it is, going out one's front door," he said. "Look where I've been swept off to: calling kin to a company of dwarves!"

*

Kili laughed in triumph. "Bilbo is staying!" he exclaimed, running out of the door. "I'm going to tell the others!"

Fili bit his lip hesitantly. "I must speak for Dís and her sons," he announced. "I will always welcome you in my home and family, Master Baggins, and I thank you for the friendship you have given Thorin. May it never fade."

Thorin frowned in confusion. "Fili—?"

"Erebor stands because of your bravery, Master Baggins. Please accept my friendship and my apology for having betrayed your trust. I know you have forgiven us, but we haven't and shan't forgive ourselves."

*

Bilbo was at a loss of words and Thorin wasn't faring much better.

Finally, he walked to Fili with long strides and pulled his nephew into a hug. "I am so proud of you, Fili," he said quietly and touched their foreheads together. Fili seemed to choke. "You will be a great king someday."

Bilbo sniffed, fighting away treacherous feelings.

"Enough of this now!" declared Thorin, pulling back to look at Bilbo. "Today is a day for laughter and merriment, for our hobbit decided to honour us! May Erebor become your home, as much as the Shire ever was one."


	3. Through Thick and Thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scribes of Erebor comission a portrait of Thorin's Company to accompany their tales of the Lonely Mountain's reconquering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 003 - picture
> 
> I don't even know anymore.

"My dear dwarves!" shouted Bilbo Baggins, jumping to his feet and glaring at the company of dwarves with his hands on his hips. "If you all cannot be still for the portrait, I shall take the only other reasonable person present and be gone! Then your can have your picture of Thorin's Company missing its hobbit, because I shan't be here to suffer through your collective complaints!"

The dwarves grumbled, while the aforementioned leader crossed his arms in defiance.

Balin sighed. "Lads, tis important for the account of our adventures. I think we can manage for a couple of hours."

*

"It's been hours!" groaned Dwalin. "I've had enough of this picture. Good day to you all!"

Thorin grabbed him by the back of his chainmail and pushed him back into his seat. "It's our duty to educate future generations with the history of our kin," he parroted in a mutinous tone.

Dwalin glared and grumbled some more, but remained in his seat.

"You two," accused Bilbo, while Thorin and Dwalin argued, pointing at Fili and Kili. "You leave Frodo alone or I'll have your beards!"

"We were just teasing!" exclaimed Kili.

"We'll stop now," said Fili petulantly, at Thorin's glare.

*

"If you'd be so kind as to remove your blade from Master Nori's throat," sighed Balin.

"Nori started it!" accused Dwalin.

"I did not!" retorted Nori. "It was Bofur!"

"I wasn't even close to Master Dwalin's pocket!"

Dori grabbed his brother by the beard with a disapproving frown. "It wasn't me, Dori!"

"Then who!" growled Dori.

"Er—."

" _Ori_ —?" shouted the entire company. (Except Thorin, who was too dignified.)

"I was bored!" exclaimed Ori, from Bofur's side. "Nori said I should practice!"

"Not on Dwalin!" moaned Nori.

"This picture is never going to be finished," Bilbo said to Frodo, who giggled.

*

"Stop it, you've had enough!"

"Oh, Yvanna have mercy!" groaned Bilbo, resting his head on Frodo's, who looked delighted at another interruption.

"I am weak with hunger!" protested Bombur. Bifur grumbled something in Khuzdûl, to which Bilbo was sure he could relate to. They shared a commiserating glance.

"Do ye want to be eating on the picture? Do ye?" demanded Bofur.

"It'd be an accurate representation of him!" giggled Kili, before groaning as Thorin smacked him in the back of the head.

Suddenly, someone snored loudly.

"Oh, for Mahal's sake!" shouted Balin, all semblance of patience gone. "Someone wake Óin!"

*

"Enough!" declared Thorin, standing up to pace in front of the rows of dwarves (and two hobbits), before stopping and staring at each of them. "This is the same Company who travelled far from the Blue Mountains, through wilderness and danger, to take back our home! Can we not sit still for a few hours? Can we not honour our future generations?"

The dwarves all stood as one, shouting their assent.

Balin took the cue, "We shall this picture through, lads! Through thick and thin!"

"Through thick and thin!" rose the chorus, Frodo amongst them.

Bilbo laughed: such precious idiots.


	4. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 004 - wet
> 
> Twenty years after the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo Baggins, former Burglar, is now a Teacher in Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, come on. This one is just begging for it. . . also, I just had to add Dwalin, because the poor bastard deserves the best life after all the canonical death and grief he had to deal with!

"—and then, when we arrived in Laketown, Thorin grumbled and moaned and was generally very childish until I told him he could have stayed with the elves if it bothered him so much!" finished Bilbo, much to the amusement of Frodo, Gimli and an assortement of dwarflings. "Between you and me," he added conspiratorily, "I think the dwarves were more bothered about being wet, rather than the bumpy ride!"

"We were _not_!" protested Kili. Fili nodded solemnly at his brother's outburst. Both were making a good show of not listening to story time with the rest of the children.

"Master Burglar!" shouted Dwalin cheerfully, slaming the door to the classroom on his way in. "Are we done with the lessons? Tis the time for supper!"

"Daddy!"

Bilbo had to smile at the small flock of children who jumped at the gruff dwarf. His very large wife entered the room then, hands on her very pregnant belly. "Come now, children!" she said. "Thank you, Master Baggins, for your care."

"Quite all right, madam!"

Givira bowed to him and wobbled out of the room, her children following and Dwalin last, counting heads to make sure he took home the correct five dwarflings.


	5. Slow Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late-night chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 005 - exposed
> 
> Er—sorry?

"Master Burglar."

"I have a perfectly serviceable name, O King," retorted Bilbo wryly. "You might consider using it." He turned from his desk in time to see Thorin's amusement being schooled into a serious face.

"Indeed. If only you would stop protesting in its favour," he sighed, a mischievous glint in his eyes, so similar to Fili's, "I could stop teasing you about it."

Bilbo stiffled a besotted sigh. "Did you come here with a purpose, O King, or have you simply come to make a nuisance of yourself so late at night?"

Thorin made a show of making himself comfortable in one of the three sofas in Bilbo's parlour.

Bilbo shook his head fondly. The line of Durin was a line of hopelessly adorable idiots; therein lay its true power, he was sure of it. "Tea, Your Majesty?"

"You don't sound very respectful at all when you say it," Thorin replied in lieu of assent.

Bilbo chuckled. "Indeed." He prepared two cups of tea and brought a plate of cookies from his little kitchen, placed them in the small tea table beside the sofa, before getting comfortable next to Thorin. "What brings you to my quarters tonight, my liege?"

Thorin's cheeks went pink, as Bilbo was sure it would happen. Thorin hid half his face in his teacup, as he gruffly said, "That particular epithet sounds like something else entirely coming from you, dear friend."

Bilbo chuckled, a bit flustered himself. Thorin looked up at the sound, his face softening. He tucked a lock of Bilbo's hair behind his ear, which as usual made Bilbo shift away in discomfort. "It was not my intention," said Bilbo, all too aware he was lying.

Often there were these small, hesitant touches; light brushes of hand to tuck in a stray lock of hair, to call for attention, or to convey some piece of information. The affectionate gestures came off as uncertain, as they surely wouldn't have been had the Arkenstone not existed. Thorin was silently asking for permission to something Bilbo didn't quite understand (or wasn't ready to).

Thorin's eyes too often spoke of regret: he had asked for forgiveness after the Battle and Bilbo had granted it, and yet the king had worn himself down on the fields in penitence all the same. Thorin was always so overwhelming in his emotions; absolute, greedy for every victory over Bilbo's resistance, seemed almost desperate for it to crumble; possessive of every bit of affection, unforgiving (of himself and others), wary, mistrustful; but Thorin was not afraid to expose his affections, he had always worn them proudly and gladly. Even then, when he believed Bilbo's hesitance meant he did not reciprocate. 

"My apologies," said Thorin, pulling back. His persistence seemed to feel grating even to himself. "I actually came by on my way home," he continued after a moment, "to ask if your new rooms were to your liking. It seems we haven't had a chance to speak properly since your return."

The dwarves hadn't agreed with his decision to visit the Shire after the Battle, especially this particular dwarf. They all had grumbled, sulked, moaned and pouted. They (Thorin) thought Bilbo would find regret and not return; but if Bilbo had ever had any doubts about moving, the welcome he received upon his return was enough to dispell them; and when he thought of his hole in the ground, it seemed to fall awfully short of the home he wanted. It was nothing like his new rooms at Erebor, with Thorin's Company coming and leaving as they pleased, settling in his parlour as if they owned it, being their noisy, entitled and overly affectionate selves. 

"They suit me very well," said Bilbo, "although I am not so sure I should be in the royal level."

"Nonsense," replied Thorin. He got up and walked to the hearth. "It's no less than you deserve."

"Thank you."

Thorin hummed in recognition. Suddenly, he turned around. "I was told you had volunteered to administer the school, as soon as the dwarflings start to arrive from Ered Luin."

Bilbo took a sip of his tea. "I did, yes. Is that a problem?"

Thorin shook his head. "Not at all. I thank you for it, in fact. I can't think of any dwarf who could take the job, short of Balin, and he is needed elsewhere."

"That is what I said," Bilbo nodded. "Ori agreed to take some time to school the dwarflings in Khuzdûl."

Thorin smiled softly. "Tis a good thought, that. You have my gratitude."

What a heady feeling, thought Bilbo, to have a king's— _this_ king's trust and gratitude. It was perhaps an excuse as to why he felt the need to get up, place his teacup in its saucer, and move to stand next to Thorin in front of the fire, close enough to touch the king's armour. For a moment, Thorin seemed surprised, then frustrated, before his expression was schooled into blankness. "I do not understand you, Halfling," he said quietly.

Bilbo sighed. "For what is worth, O King, I do not understand myself either." Thorin seemed surprised and Bilbo gave him a flat look, turning towards him. "I am not as oblivious as I seem," he hesitated, "but I have been alone for a long time, perhaps longer than I should have, although it was by choice." Thorin's lips were parted and he stared unblinkingly at Bilbo. "You seem always so sure of yourself and unfraid of asking—perhaps even taking what you desire."

"My dear friend, if I have _ever_ —."

"No!" exclaimed Bilbo, horrified that he might have implied less of Thorin's honour (although it had indeed failed him once before). "That isn't what I meant. I meant that, well, ready made ideas often lead to . . . disappointments," he finished, looking up to Thorin at last.

The king's cheeks had turned pink, but his eyes shone with warmth. "My dear Bilbo." He smoothed Bilbo's hair away from his face using both hands, finished by craddling Bilbo's head gently. "My dear hobbit. I have failed you miserably in the past. As my nephew so eloquently put it, it doesn't matter what forgiveness you offer, as I shan't forgive myself for the careless way I treated you. I have none but myself to blame for your mistrust."

Bilbo reached up and placed both his hands on Thorin's forearms. "It's not that I don't trust you, Thorin—."

"Yes, it is. I loath this weakness which has made me lose more time with you than that we had already lost. I have already lived so long without you." Thorin encircled Bilbo's shoulders and pulled him closer into his embrace. Slowly, he bent forward to place a kiss on Bilbo's brow. "My liege," he whispered, and Bilbo thought that perhaps there was something to be said about the slow and steady burn of affection and desire, until both trusted each other (and themselves) enough to move forward.


	6. Durin's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations for Durin's Day celebrations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 006 - Day

"I trust everything is ready for the festival?" Thorin asked Balin, during Council meeting.

"Indeed, my King!" said Balin cheerfully. "Durin's Day has even more cause to be celebrated now, as it was the day the King Under the Mountain returned to Erebor!"

Several members of the Council rose, shouting their agreement in mangled Khuzdûl.

"Only one detail left unattended," said Dori, with deceptive casualness.

"The only thing left," drawled Dwalin, "is whether or not our liege has yet chosen a partner for the celebrations and when said partner would be available to be educated in the ways of dwarves."

*

Racuous laughter went through the members of the Council. Thorin wondered, as he often did in these meetings, what had possessed him to award thirteen of the twenty-one Council seats to the entirety of Thorin's Company, plus his devilish younger sister. (Then again, the main instigators would have sat in it anyway, as all five of them were indeed of Durin's line.)

Thorin gave them all a flat stare, retorting, "The king has indeed chosen a partner for Durin's Day. And," he added primly, "said partner won't be needing any tutoring, thank you!"

Dís scowled. "It's not me, is it?"

*

Thorin scowled right back, while the dwarves laughed. "Did I ask you!"

(The remaining members of the Coucil were Erebor's ministers, all appointed by the people, so Thorin wondered if they ought to be displaying their entertainment so blatantly!)

"Or me, lad! I already have a partner for the day!" shouted Dwalin, in the mist of roaring with laughter.

"We also have partners, Thorin," laughed Fili and Thorin briefly entertained the idea of having children just to spite his heir apparent. Kili was gasping for air, as he laughed. Thorin narrowed his eyes at both.

Suddenly, the door screeched open. 

*

All members of the Council turned to look at the blushing figure in the doorway.

"Oh, dear!" moaned Bilbo Baggins. "My apologies, honourable members of the Council! I believed the day's meeting to have ended half an hour ago and I was searching—."

"Quite all right, lad!" shouted Bofur. "It ended half an hour ago, we were just teasing—."

"Have a seat, Master Baggins!" Thorin hastily interrupted, unceremoniously shoving Kili off the chair to Thorin's left.

The dwarves burst with laughter, much to Bilbo's confusion. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Bilbo took a seat and glanced at Thorin. "Is something wrong?"

*

"The only problem," declared Kili petulantly, getting up from the floor, "is that Uncle doesn't have a partner for the opening ceremony of Durin's Day!"

"Yes, he does," said Bilbo. "He asked me. I've been learning the custom, why?"

Thorin sat back triumphantly, everything about him radiating smugness.

Dís looked thoughtfully at her brother. "You don't mind, Master Baggins? A partnership forged for Durin's Day is frequently never broken. One could say that, after it, you might find yourself in that seat more often than not."

"Dís—," started Thorin.

Bilbo simply said, "I didn't have other pressing engagements, either way."

*

There was still a lot to recover in Erebor, but the opening ceremony for Durin's Day was so full of hope, celebration and remembrance that it was difficult not to be taken in by the spirit of the holiday.

There were no armours or swords, just flowers and precious trinkets, exchanged and given in tribute to Mahal for the delivery of Durin to the Longbeards. Dwalin passed by with a female warrior called Givira; and Fili and Kili, each with a pretty lass on their arms.

They all danced in the Gallery of the Forefathers far into the following day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, I completely forgot to mention the prompt in past chapters. That's it, that's the kind of goober I am.


	7. Plus One Hobbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur is more than happy to travel with his little hobbit friend when Bilbo wants to visit his old home—and the King wouldn't trust anyone but the Company to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 007 - tranquil
> 
> I think tranquil and I think Bofur, which I think is very cute. ♥

Bofur sat outside Bag End in late night, enjoying a pipe of Old Toby—in much the same position another creature (a hobbit) had sat some ten years ago when Gandalf came to force him into an adventure which was yet to be finished. (Bofur adored the Shire. There was a sense of tranquility here that always made him glad to be alive—and glad to have met Master Baggins!)

Said hobbit suddenly appeared on the road, carrying a heavy burden. Bofur, of course, was immediately of a mind to help and skipped down the road to meet his dear friend ahead.

*

Bofur startled when Bilbo's burden suddenly whined. "Cricket! What is it?"

Bilbo sighed in exasperation, as it seemed to be his default disposition with most dwarves, most of the time. "It's a child, Bofur; a hobbit child," he said. Some tension seemed to seep into his face and he spared Bofur a strained smile.

"And why do you have it, Master Baggins?" insisted Bofur.

Children had a way of interrupting tranquility in people's lives and Bofur suddenly could only think of one dwarf who would have Bofur's head if he returned to Erebor a hobbit short of when he left.

*

A head peaked out of the cloak in Bilbo's arms. A crown of dark curls and the bluest blue eyes Bofur had ever seen shocked him into silence. He and the child stared at one another.

"Bofur, this is Frodo. Frodo, this is Bofur. He's a dwarf, my boy."

Bofur preened, as Frodo giggled. He eyed the child again. It seemed a tranquil little thing, but that would hardly matter to the King, if it took away his hobbit's attention. On another hand, Bilbo was nothing if not persistent. Bofur stiffled a groan. Nobody deserved to come between those two.

*

It was late enough that Bilbo managed to put the child to bed without much fuss. Any fussing that might have happened was mostly on Bilbo's part; the dear fussy hobbit, thought Bofur fondly. Finally, they had some tranquility to discuss the matter.

"Frodo's parents drowned during a boat ride, just before we arrived," said Bilbo. "His mother was a Brandybuck and his father was a Baggins, which—as luck would have it—means I have some claim over the child's guardianship. It is fortunate we arrived when we did."

If he thought of his own neck, Bofur wasn't quite so sure.

*

"What does it mean, laddie? Are we taking the wee hobbit home?"

"That is being decided as we speak," said Bilbo, but Bofur did not like the sound of that—at all. "The Master of Brandy Hall and the Tháin are discussing whether it would be healthy for Frodo to be raised among dwarves."

Bofur bristled. "Every single dwarf in Erebor would defend the little one with their lives!" He stood up. "Where are this Master and this Tháin? I shall give them a piece of this dwarf's mind!"

"What!" exclaimed Bilbo, seemingly surprised at seeing his tranquil friend so exalted.

*

"What if they don't let you take the little one, eh? Is little Frodo going to his ma's family or are you staying? Because Thorin would take the guard to come get you!"

Bilbo looked annoyed. "I should like to see it!"

Bofur groaned—why had he come?

Bilbo sighed. "Frodo cannot stay in Brandy Hall. There are too many Brandybuck children as it is, and not enough adults to watch over them. I do not want to stay, but I also do not want to leave Frodo in the Shire. He needs tranquility, not Brandybucks! They must let him come."

*

In the end, Bilbo was right. A child in Frodo's situation needed care and he wouldn't get all of it in Brandy Hall; but the Tháin—which was the hobbits' chief and not an actual name, Bofur realised—and the Master made Bilbo promise to visit twice each decade—and to write. Often!

Bofur suspected it was more because they missed their kin, rather than they worried about the two hobbits living with dwarves.

"Life is in fact very tranquil in Erebor, after Smaug," Bilbo said, but Bofur noticed he didn't say who—or rather, what Smaug was. Hobbits were likely prone to fainting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late, I know, but well! I had a date on Thursday with a very lovely someone (yay!) and I got home a bit late in the evening... and then I forgot. All my apologies! ;____;


	8. Worse Fates (and Mates)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally, Thorin's kin conspires against him, if only to manage his rather predictabe tempers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 008 - Conceal
> 
> I made myself giggle!

"Kili is hiding something from me," says Thorin, suddenly coming into Bilbo's rooms; having known Thorin for a few years now, Bilbo doesn't try to either understand the context, or question Thorin's presence. If he's ever learned something about Thorin is that Kili is his favourite nephew, and so Bilbo tries to conceal a smirk behind his teacup.

(Perhaps saying Thorin has a favourite nephew is not right. The difference is that Thorin wants to put Fili on display, so proud he is of his fairer nephew, while he would gladly steal Kili away to keep him from any harm.)

*

Bilbo and Dís exchange an meaningful glance, but Thorin doesn't seem to notice in his rather dignified distress. "Why do you think Kili is concealing something from you?" asks Dís, even though she and Bilbo had been discussing the very same issue over tea.

"Not something exactly—but rather someone!" declares Thorin darkly. "Is it an elf? Oh, it _is_ an elf! This whole affair started when Thranduil's envoy arrived!"

Dís rolls her eyes, while Bilbo smoothers a snicker with a cookie. "He does have a partner, Thorin."

Thorin's expression becomes thunderous. "Someone of my kin, betraying his other half with an elf!"

*

"Forget the elf, _Thorin_!" exclaims Dís, exasperated.

"Hipothetically speaking, O King," says Bilbo and immediately finds himself under Thorin's unyielding scrutiny.

" _You_ , my dear hobbit," growls Thorin. "You are also concealing something from your King." He glances at his sister. "And you, sister! My own kin—against me!"

Dís and Bilbo exchange another glance and Thorin notices. Bilbo thinks this is what a pouting heir of Durin would look like, if Durin's heirs were prone to fits of sulking (which they are).

"Hipothetically speaking," insists Bilbo, "which would you consider a worse mate: an elf or—well, a member of Thorin's Company?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! (Though I don't celebrate.) :3


	9. There and Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third anniversary of the arrival of Thorin's Company to Bag End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 009 - bound
> 
> Follows sometime after _Slow Burn_.

"Good morning, my dear hobbit!" declared Thorin, coming into Bilbo's rooms, as if he had the right. "I had thought we could break fast together this morning, what do you think?"

Bilbo glared blearily, exiting the bathroom where he'd been finishing his morning ablutions. He wasn't yet dressed, having spent more than half the night finishing the last edits on his book; he hadn't been able to stop, being so close to finally having it done and ready.

Finally, Thorin seemed to notice Bilbo's state of undress, because a most queer glin entered his eyes. "It seems you are not yet prepared to face the day. We could reschedule—," Bilbo was already nodding his assent, when Thorin continued, "—or, perhaps we could stay inside for the morning. I'm sure I don't have any pressing engagements today."

This was a blatant lie. Bilbo knew it, because Balin had been complaining just yesterday about today's agenda. Bilbo struggled to say something. "Perhaps later today—."

"You know today's date?" asked Thorin suddenly.

"Yes, of course. It is the third anniversary of your arrival in Hobbiton," he hesitated, "when we met."

"Exactly—and because Balin wouldn't hear of it, I am supposed to spend the day in company I do not desire. I had planned to have today's first meal with you—to celebrate, so to speak—but now I find myself with even less patience for diplomacy. Perhaps we could . . ." he trailed off.

Bilbo had to roll his eyes. How like Thorin to make plans without informing the other party about them. "Perhaps we could hide from Balin in my rooms?"

Thorin chuckled. "Exactly," he said and sat down heavily in one of Bilbo's sofas.

"On your head be it," said Bilbo. He tucked his dressing gown more safely around himself, seeing as he wasn't about to get out of it sometime soon, and went to his desk. "I actually have something for you, Thorin," said Bilbo and turned to see Thorin staring at him curiously. "To celebrate, so to speak," he teased. Thorin chuckled, but looked interested when Bilbo handed him the wrapped package.

"A present?" Thorin asked and unwrapped it quickly, only to frown in confusion when faced with the leather-bound journal Bilbo usually kept on his desk. "What is this, Bilbo—you've written me a book?" He opened it and was faced with the title. " _There and Back Again _. What is it about, Halfling?"__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tomorrow (because I missed a week!), but I have to edit it before forcing it upon you. :3 I also have to post a timeline. I haven't forgotten, I promise, just... haven't got around to do it yet. D:


	10. A couple of Bagginses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo arrives in Erebor. Thorin reacts accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 010 - precious
> 
> A table with this prompt—can you even tell me it wasn't made for the Tolkienverse? So, "precious" is friendship and family, yes? Follows after _Plus One Hobbit_.

"Master Baggins!" called Thorin, coming into Bilbo's rooms as if he owned them. He seemed to fill the space with his very presence, despite the fact that his clothes were not of the kingly kind, but rather like what he had worn during their rather unexpected journey. Thorin must have been visiting the mines.

Bofur – sitting in front of the fire in an attempt to ward off the chill of their journey – looked like he wanted to shrink into the sofa.

Thorin gripped Bilbo by the shoulders and looked him over with glittering eyes. "My dear hobbit! I had started to consider sending the guard to the Shire after you. You were gone for far too long!"

Unfortunately for Thorin, Bilbo found the joke – and Bilbo hoped it was a joke – in very poor taste. (Furthermore, he was tired, cold and his precious nephew apparently became grumpy when he was uncomfortable, which had the unfortunate consequence of making Bilbo very short on pacience.) What he said was, "I beg your pardon, O King! As far as I am concerned, I am free to come and go as I please, as I am not your prisoner!"

Thorin's eager expression crumpled like a set of children's wooden blocks and Bilbo could have sworn he heard Bofur groaning in exasperation. With a pout worthy of Kili, which was no small feat, Thorin grumbled, "Indeed you are not my prisoner, Master Baggins!" Then, a mischievous glint suddenly entered his eyes. "Which is rather unfortunate for myself, as I am yours."

Bilbo gapped at him, but before he could reply, Kili exclaimed unexpectedly from the doorway, "Oh, Mahal!" At his side, Fili looked mortified.

Thorin – sporting rather pink cheeks in his majestic profile and a burning glare – growled, "And who gave the two of you permission to enter Master Baggins' rooms?"

"Tis why the lads would want to come in at this point that boggles me," muttered Bofur, appearing at Bilbo's side.

It was Kili who replied. "We heard from Glóin, who heard it from Óin, who more or less heard it from Bifur, who heard it from Bombur, who heard it from Bofur," he paused to breathe, "that Master Baggins was entertaining the company of a fellow hobbit!"

"I beg your pardon?" demanded Thorin, turning to glare at Bilbo, who bristled and prepared himself to respond in kind.

Before he could, however, the door opened for a third time since Bilbo came out of the washroom to let Ori and Frodo through, coming from the kitchens. Frodo looked a bit overwhelmed, but otherwise in good spirits, so Bilbo did not worry much about the bits of pie crust stuck to the front of Frodo's frock. The child skipped towards Bilbo and held out one hand, which Bilbo took.

"What the devil is _that_?" demanded Thorin.

"I would thank you to mind your manners, Master Oakenshield!" snapped Bilbo. Childish dwarves did not deserve to be called kings. " _That_ , as you so charmingly put it, is my nephew, Frodo Baggins." The little hobbit gave a purfunctory bow, while eyeing Thorin suspiciously. "He shall live with me from this day on."

"A hobbit child? In Erebor?" Thorin scoffed. Frodo's face fell, which almost made Bilbo growl at the rude dwarf. "May I ask who authorised it?"

Bilbo narrowed his eyes at the dismissive tone.

Behind Thorin, Fili winced, but Kili looked as if all his birthdays had just been presented to him. Bofur sighed and Ori looked horrified, but before Bilbo could talk himself into delivering the most scathing speech in his arsenal, Frodo tried to punch Thorin in the stomach and found himself summarily lift in the air by one leg.

"Oh, dear," Bilbo said faintly. Then, "Frodo! You don't hit people, regardless of how rude they act!"

"I beg your pardon!" protested Thorin – visibly taking care not to jostle Frodo too much, so Bilbo refrained from trying to smack him in the face – and poked Frodo in the stomach. "Well, it feels like an hobbit," he commented airily, which sent Kili into a fit of giggles. "If he proves himself useless, at least we can make a meal out of it."

Frodo shrieked in merriment and started to climb Thorin's arm like an elfling, having apparently decided that Thorin was just teasing him. (Which Bilbo was mostly sure of.) "It's polite to introduce yourself when you meet someone!" demanded Frodo.

Thorin nodded, settling Frodo on his shoulder. "Agreed. My name is Thorin. I am a King."

Frodo scoffed. "Hobbits don't have kings."

Thorin spared him an unimpressed look. "Your new home is in my kingdom, therefore I am your king. Even if your Uncle refuses to agree with it."

"Does that mean I have to call you Your Majesty?"

"Yes."

Frodo huffed. "I shan't."

"You shall," said Thorin firmly.

"Nope," replied Frodo cheerfully, "but you can call me Master Baggins, Master Thorin. Like you do with Uncle."

A glimmer of mischief entered Thorin's eyes. "Ah! That would be overly confusing for me, Master Baggins. Your Uncle therefore shall have to be called Bilbo from this day on."

Bilbo swallowed a giggle. It simply wouldn't do encourage Thorin's streak of mischief. But he said, "Who am I to refuse your orders, O King!"

Bofur grunted in disbelief, but Thorin let out a rumbling chuckle. "I shall remind you of those precise words, my dear hobbit."


	11. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anniversary of the Battle of Five Armies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 011 - slow
> 
> Oh, the (not)plot thickens. . . ! Follows after _A couple of Bagginses_ and _Durin's Day_..

The dawn arrived slowly at the Royal Wing in Erebor.

It was a late November morning and most of the royal family had left before sunrise to join the celebrations in the Gallery of the Forefathers. The dwarves celebrated the return of Durin's Folk to the Lonely Mountain and the death of the dragon. Frodo had gone with Fili and Kili to meet the rest of Thorin's Company. (Bofur had likely met them along the way.)

As for Bilbo, he sat quietly drinking his tea. Thorin sat in the opposite seat.

"Tis the anniversary of the day my own stupidity almost cost me my life."

Bilbo huffed. "I am aware, I almost lost mine."

"You should have gone away after I told you to—though I am grateful that you did not and we made peace, dearest friend." He tremulously touched Bilbo's hand on top of the table.

Bilbo returned the touch. "I know, but I could not have. And that was not what I meant when I said I almost lost my life," he added, not meeting Thorin's eyes. "Had you died, I think I would have carried the weight my whole life. I can't imagine I would have ever been happy—or as happy as I was with you, all of you, really." He laughed mirthlessly. "I probably would have spent my life writing poetry about you and Erebor. I can just imagine it." He sang, " _I sit and think of times that were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door._ *" 

Thorin was quiet and, when Bilbo looked up, he was staring at Bilbo in wonder, face so open and and expression so soft, it almost felt like Time had stopped. They said no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bilbo's Song, _The Ring Goes South_ , The Lord of the Rings
> 
> On another subject, here is the extra ficlet I had promised for that one week I missed. **[Here](http://daniskatra.tumblr.com/post/67088669733/the-road-goes-ever-on-and-on-timeline) is the promised timeline.** Aaaaand I think that is all I owed you guys. Now, off to work with me: it's 11 pm and it's gonna be one long night. Cheers!


	12. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“There is nothing shameful in caring for someone.”_   
>  _“There is, when this desire makes me wish to keep this precious someone locked up as if it were a precious jewel, as if he were for my eyes only. When I wish to do things I can only blame on the madness of my line.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt 12 - courage. For November, 28th.
> 
> Set after _A Day for Laughter and Merriment_. Timeline here ([x](http://daniskatra.tumblr.com/post/67088669733/the-road-goes-ever-on-and-on-timeline)).

Dark were Thorin Oakenshield’s thoughts in this morrow, as he looked across the room towards the rest of his Company, where they sat in the Galleries, listening to the Court session.

Balin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili stood at his side, as the King Under the Mountain held court in the Court Galleries for the first time since Thrór held the title. After the return of Durin’s folk to the Lonely Mountain, as they rebuilt their home, Thorin had listened to his people in the Mine Halls or, more likely, Dís would. Now, centuries into his reign as king in exiled, and now returned, they were doing things properly.

With the exception that Thorin could not focus. Oh, no. His hobbit ( _his hobbit!_ ) was sitting in the galleries with the rest of them, only he was talking animatedly to one of Thorin’s own, Bofur, who was indeed one that had always held Bilbo in the highest regard, even before Thorin had come to his senses, and had always seen his affections returned. Quite unlike Thorin.

It was infuriating, it was heartbreaking, it was maddening. It made Thorin’s blood boil with fury, made him think strange, dark thoughts, ways to manipulate Bilbo into his arms, dark fantasies of things he would do to any dwarf (any hobbit, any elf) who dared to look at his hobbit ( _his hobbit!_ ) as Thorin himself looked at him.

Thorin sat in his throne, earned with blood and tears, and allowed himself not listen to his subjects, those to whom he once thought to owe his full existence, but not anymore. No longer was he only a king; all those years of solitude, of complete dedication to his folk, of shame and longing . . . wasn’t Thorin owed some respite from it? Didn’t he deserve the prize? Why was he still waiting for it, always waiting, always longing? Thorin used to have greater determination to get what he was owed: all his discipline, undone by a creature half his width and a head shorter. Thorin was no more the great King Under the Mountain, slayer of Azog, conqueror of Erebor, Durin’s envoy, but _Thorin_ , whom Bilbo Baggins called “dearest friend”, but allowed no further contact. It was infuriating, heartbreaking, maddening. Thorin deserved his hobbit’s affections!

At the galleries, Bilbo and Bofur continued to talk animatedly, unaware of their king’s scrutiny, and Thorin’s heart soared seeing Bilbo as carefree as when he flew with the Eagles of Manwe – and not with the hooded eyes and wary stance he seemed to only show when they were alone, as if Thorin were a breath away of drawing his sword. Oh, but it was also a spear through the heart, painful, painful; and sharp was the pain, because this metaphorical spear was twisted further by each person Bilbo befriended.

Gladness and fury filled Thorin as he looked at Bilbo and Bofur. Just one more person to distract Bilbo from Thorin and, without a choice, Thorin continued to brood deep thoughts, thoughts so horrible he was half frightened by them. Not only of things he would to anyone who stole his hobbit’s attention ( _his hobbit!_ ), but of things he would do to Bilbo, to keep his attentions all to himself; thoughts he hadn’t had since he held the Arkenstone – thoughts of stealing Bilbo away, holding him chained and imprisoned for Thorin’s eyes only, holding him tight and close.

“The Miners Guild is in process of assessing the danger and damage to the lower levels,” said Balin at his side. Thorin startled, realizing he was now supposed to offer an answer to the miner in from of him (just arrived from the Iron Hills, but whose heart had never stopped longing from home, like so many others). “Master Bofur will have his report ready when it’s ready and we shall assess the viability of opening the darker mines for exploration when we can. I’m afraid nothing can be salvaged until then, nor work is to be found for a long while yet, but you can talk to Her Majesty Princess Dís, lad, and she will see to it that you and your family should want for nothing.”

The old miner nodded despondently and, for a moment, Thorin was distracted by the need to help his people, to do something, to mend, to provide, to fix; but Balin was right, they could not open all the mines and forges yet.

At length, the Court session was finished and Thorin got leave to have a moment to rest in his quarters.

“And, lad?” said Balin, as Thorin motioned to leave the Galleries, with that infuriating knowing glint in his eye. “Make sure that, when you return for Council this afternoon, your head is in the right place.”

Still scowling, Thorin ensconced himself in his quarters, growling at his wolf-dogs when they tried to greet him with their usual exuberance. Both of the hounds sniffed at him in disdain, clearly judging him and his temper, and Thorin glowered in return, pacing the length of his parlour, thoughts spiraling further and further down ( _his hobbit!_ ), when he heard a perfunctory knock on the door, before it opened and closed. Only one person ever did this anymore.

“You were rather distracted today, O King. I thought you might want to talk about it over the noon meal.”

Thorin growled, clasping his hands behind his back to keep himself from snatching his visitor and hide him forever. “I am not really fit for company at the moment, my dear Burglar. You might want to leave. As fast as you can.” So saying, Thorin turned towards the fireplace.

The silence behind him stretched, but Bilbo did not leave. “I haven’t heard you call me Burglar in a good while, Thorin Oakenshield.” His name was his undoing. Thorin made an involuntary sound in his throat, turning around, half-mad in his need.

“Do you imagine what is happening to me, my dear friend? What sort of thoughts I entertain at the moment? You would be frightened, horrified if you knew the things I would do.” It seemed Thorin’s words were not reaching Bilbo, because instead of looking at Thorin with wide-eyed fright as he had once done in the battlements of Erebor, Bilbo was looking at his feet, fidgeting, cheeks flushed with something that felt warm rather than damning. “Do you not understand what I am saying, Burglar? My heart yearns for things that cannot be, only rather than a piece of rock, it is a person I wish to possess. I had thought it to be only gold and gems that made me weak, but it seems such is the nature of my race; every treasure is desired, needed and lusted after.” Thorin breathed harshly. “My advice is that you leave,” He finally gritted out.

At last, Bilbo’s eyes met his, steady and sure. Thorin was startled by the determination in them. “You do not frighten me, O King.” But his voice wavered. “Not enough to deter me, at least,” Bilbo corrected. “Not then and not now. If nothing else, I must make sure your madness is not the end of you. No one else seems to get through.”

“No one else seems to inspire quite this madness in me, either.” As he saw neither fright, nor hesitation in Bilbo, Thorin crossed the room, standing as close as he dared to assuage his dark fantasies, breathing in the light and warmth of his hobbit ( _his hobbit!_ ), letting it be a balm for him. Thorin towered over Bilbo, who still leaned against the door, eyes averted once again and cheeks flushed. “Do you understand what I am saying, my dear hobbit? Do you understand the kind of madness that has taken me, what I want, the shameful things I think of doing?”

Bilbo met his eyes. “There is nothing shameful in caring for someone.” Oh, but it almost permission.

Thorin took a step forward. “There is, when this desire makes me wish to keep this precious someone locked up as if it were a precious jewel, as if he were for my eyes only. When I wish to do things I can only blame on the madness of my line.”

It seemed, however, that there was no frightening Bilbo today and the damned courage and determination Thorin was so familiar with – although it didn’t always fall on his good side – made Bilbo take a step further, bringing their bodies together, so very close. “You seem to think this affliction ails you only, O King. There is nothing shameful or mad about jealousy, if one has the courage to trust his,” Bilbo hesitated, “precious someone.”

“Do you think I can show that kind of bravery? When it seems I am only capable of showing my cowardice before you? I am not as brave as you, my dear Bilbo. I am jealous, possessive, my affections are dangerous—,” he might as well say it, “—for you. There are very few things that could keep me from you. And I would fight most of them until their death or mine.” Afraid of his heart, but also encouraged by it, Thorin said, “You give me courage, dear friend. Courage to be myself, as I know you will not let me fail.”

“There is no one else I had rather you were, other than my Thorin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late. Late late late. Later than late. But I have a calendar and I know exactly how many Thursdays have I missed and I will make up for all of them, I promise!


	13. Into The West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You must depart soon. The tide is changing, Legolas.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 013 - sand. For December, 5th.
> 
> I’m only surprised it took me this long to reach for this pairing (it is my default one, did you know: it’s so precious and the books do such a great job of it, I never dared to write about them). Also, I might have lied? Because the One Ring lends a rather epic shade to the whole thing, right? I quite like that bit (when no one I cared about dies!).

The King Under the Mountain approached the harbour, his steps weighted with age. “Ah,” he said wistfully. “Almost three hundred years I walked this earth and I had never gazed into the sea. Look at these sandy shores, almost golden in the sunlight.”

“Could almost be a precious metal!” exclaimed the Prince much too jovially for his age, slapping the King on the back. “Wouldn’t you say, brother? Or perhaps, it would be an apt metaphor for the colour of your hair, if your wife’s poetry is anything to go by! Durin’s line: falling head over hills with poets since TA 2941.”

At their voices, one of the two people in the harbour turned around. “Your Majesties,” protested Gimli, son of Glóin. “You needn’t have come down here!”

“Nonsense!” said the Prince. “Besides, Tauriel wanted to say goodbye again. Say goodbye, dear!” The willowy redhead at his side spared him a withering glance. Not even remotely deterred by her lack of enthusiasm, the Prince continued, “Thorin, lad, come help your Uncle peek into that boat,” he called to the heavily armoured dwarf standing attentively behind them. One might confuse him for a guardsman or servant, if not for the simple crown adorning his dark head – much like another Thorin, another time. And, much like his namesake, this Thorin was well tried in his dealings with both his father and Uncle, so he simply grunted and followed the Prince further into the harbour. The Prince was saying, “I want to see what elves take into the afterlife. I bet you it’s not a sensible weapon or some good games, oh no! Unfortunately, Tauriel says she would never inflict me upon the elves of Valinor, which I find very offensive. Why did I marry such a curmudgeon, Thorin lad, eh? You were the smart one, picking a hobbit as well! Halflings are—.”

“I wonder what it would take to shut him up,” mused the King Under the Mountain, ignoring the animated speech about what Halflings were and elves were not. Tauriel hummed in agreement, glancing fondly at her husband. “But regardless! We had to come down say goodbye properly, cousin – as family would and not as King and subject, as we must in front of those stuffy Council dwarves,” he said to Gimli. The King smirked, “At the least, you might want us to distract your lad, while you ran for the hills! Though I expect you remain as deranged as the day you arrived in Erebor asking your father for his blessing to this friendship . . . .”

The second person on the harbour, an elf, rolled his eyes. “Eru spare me from the humour of dwarves!”

“Hey,” shouted the Prince, returning to the group, with the help of his nephew. “Tauriel says the same!”

“Wonder why.”

“Legolas,” growled Gimli. “We are in for an eternity together. Do not start getting on my nerves right away!”

Legolas’ hands curled gently on Gimli’s shoulders. “As you wish.”

Gimli’s cheeks became a rusty colour to match his hair and Legolas sniggered under his breath at the sight. “Bloody elf,” muttered the old dwarf, glaring at him.

“You must depart soon,” said Tauriel, all of a sudden. “The tide is changing, Legolas.”

Legolas nodded. “Say your goodbyes, my friend. I will walk with Tauriel before we leave.”

Gimli harrumphed, as soon as Tauriel and Legolas were out of ear reach. “Old flame, that,” he said. “Bloody elf must like redheads!” The King Under the Mountain and the Prince snorted. “Ah, but to finally sail away! Legolas has been yearning for it, delaying because of our friendship. There are to be yet fewer who remember Smaug and the Quest of Erebor.”

“And our dear Burglar, may he rest in Mahal’s Halls. Look at us, Fili,” the Prince said, “getting maudlin like old men.”

“Look at you, you mean,” snorted the King. “You are the only one getting maudlin, Kili.”

The Prince gasped in outrage. “You’re weeping earlier, you great ninny!”

Gimli laughed. “Three hundred years and some things never change: Fili and Kili are such those things.”

The King Under the Mountain and the Prince sniggered. After a moment in which the three of them peacefully gazed into the point where the water kissed the sand, thinking of places and people from ages long ago, the King approached his cousin with a smile and brought their foreheads together. “May you find rest in the Undying Lands, cousin. You shall be missed.” He stepped back and let his brother do the same. The Prince sniffed wetly and pulled his cousin into a hug as well. The King smiled fondly. “Don’t be a baby, Kili,” he teased. “I reckon it won’t take long before we depart as well. My boy is going to do great things in Erebor when I go, I should probably hurry!”

The Prince glowered at his brother. “Don’t even think of leaving me here alone, you! I don’t want to be the last of Thorin’s Company, it would be a awful bore!”

“Gimli!” called Legolas from the ship. “The tides are changing, we must depart!”

Solemnly, Gimli bowed to the other two and walked to the ship, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Farewell, O King, my Prince, my cousins,” he shouted from the ship.

At his side, Legolas waved his goodbyes, a peaceful smile on his face.

On the shore, Tauriel rested her hands on the Prince’s shoulders, pulling him against her side. Thorin, the Third of his name, put an arm around his father’s shoulders and waved at the dwarf who had been his champion since he was old enough to hold an axe, weeping a little. As for the King Under the Mountain, he rejoiced, because the grumpy dwarf who had first defeated the madness of their line was loved deeply enough that even the gods bowed their will to this friendship between a dwarf and his elf.


	14. Three Days or Three Ages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Perhaps you ought to take the child's example and be a little more forward," Thranduil offered._   
>  _"Perhaps you ought to get your nose out of my business."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 014 - inside
> 
> Follows _Worse Fates (And Mates)_.

It had been many a year, almost two centuries since the Valar saw so many elves wandering unsupervised inside the Lonely Mountain. By all accounts, especially that of Thranduil Elvenking, King Thrór should be turning in his grave at the moment. The thought alone would be enough to make Thorin II develop a minor anxiety condition, had he not found himself a good reason to rise up above his shortcomings.

The unlikely “Good Reason” was four feet tall and was currently engaged in cheery talk with the bride and groom while King Thorin watched in brooding silence from his rightful throne. On his brow was a simple mithril circlet and above him rested the Arkenstone.

Thranduil took the seat next to him, presumably that of the Queen Consort or, as the case may be, the future seat of Prince Consort. Thranduil barely had any place to put his legs, which was rather irksome. Alas, Thranduil made do. "Why only look from afar, O King Under the Mountain?" he asked from behind his wine goblet, before taking a casual sip.

King Thorin looked heavenward as if he were praying for patience, which filled Thranduil with unabashed glee. He watched Thorin take a deep breath, before adding, "Only the Valar know how you ensnared the poor little Hobbit—.”

“He’s quite of average height for a hobbit,” Thorin parroted absently as if the lesson had been adequately drilled into him.

Amused beyond words, Thranduil finished, “Surely your advances would not be unwelcome."

It seemed his words caught Thorin’s attention, because he asked, with a sullen frown, "How would you know?"

Swirling the wine, Thranduil sniffed. "Some of us are wiser than others."

"Not your Captain of the Guard, you mean?" Thorin demanded, the belligerent fool.

Thranduil lifted one single eyebrow and watched Thorin deflate as his anger left him.

Together, they watched Tauriel laugh when Kíli pulled her down for a kiss in the middle of a dwarven formal dance. Although they were far away, Thranduil heard Master Baggins’ joyous giggle and saw Fíli, the Crown Prince, make a disgruntled face at the newlyweds.

"Perhaps you ought to take the child's example and be a little more forward," Thranduil offered.

"Perhaps you ought to get your nose out of my business."

“Don’t flatter yourself. I suspect Master Baggins' affection is your only redeeming quality.”

In truth, Thranduil probably should mind his own business, but facing the ages of the world without some sort entertainment had proved to be harder than expected. Besides, it seemed that meddling had always worked well for Mithrandir.

With that in mind, Thranduil took a sip of his wine – elven, a gift of his, seeing as he was stepping in for Tauriel’s kin and, thus, providing for the celebration – and watched Thorin surreptitiously. After a moment, he tried again, “Surely he has forgiven you?"

"Would you mind your own business!" Thorin shouted, slamming a fist on the arm of his throne, all his semblance of patience gone.

In the silence that followed, Thranduil, who hadn’t laughed for an age, was sorely tempted.

King Thorin, the Second of his name, looked up to see his old Company, not to mention several other guests, both dwarven and elven, glancing at them expectantly. Muttering invectives in Khuzdûl under his breath, Thorin glared while Thranduil raised both his unimpressed eyebrows until their guests were all seemingly convinced that a new battle wasn’t about to erupt in the King’s Halls.

All but Bilbo Baggins, who was pursing his lips in the most disapproving manner.

It was only when Thranduil raised his glass in greeting that he shook his head like an exasperated tutor and went back to his conversation with the Lord of the Iron Hills.

Thranduil insisted, "So, did he?"

“Mahal save me from the curiosity of elves!” So saying, Thorin turned sideways and stared at Thranduil. "How does this concern you?"

Thranduil shrugged his shoulders, replying, "It doesn’t," and turned to survey the dancing guests: dwarves and elves together for a wedding, as they hadn’t been seen since the better days of Moria. Meanwhile, Thranduil waited.

"Well, if you must know,” Thorin said through gritted teeth, “Bilbo has forgiven me."

Thranduil smirked to himself. Victory sweetened even the strangest of times. To Thorin, he said, "If that is so, why did your nephew marry before you did?” He was then unexpectedly charmed by the blush that graced the face of this child of Aulë. How utterly humane, Thorin looked. The Arkenstone above him seemed to hold no power over his lovesick heart. “Ah.”

“What?”

“You have not told him,” Thranduil surmised.

Glancing down, Thorin offered, “I wouldn’t presume to—.” He cleared his throat, before looking at Thranduil almost beseechingly. “I cannot ask for anything more.”

Thranduil measured the dwarf in front of him. After a moment, he nodded once and sat back in the little throne that was awaiting its rightful little owner. He said, “I shall gift you with a piece of my hard-won wisdom, O King Under the Mountain.” He stroked the gems around his neck. “You could have three days or three ages with him, neither will be long enough. Don't waste more than what was already wasted.”

It took a moment or two; but before he finished his glass of wine, Thranduil had the privilege of seeing Thorin Oakenshield stand up, set his jaw and offer a terse, “By your leave, Elvenking,” as he dashed across the Hall. Thranduil watched as Thorin took Master Baggins’ hand and leaned in to whisper something to him. Thranduil smiled when Master Baggins’ face flushed with pleasure.

Moments later they were both twirling in time with the music among the other dancing couples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, then. Keep any expectations for regular updates at low, like, really low.  
> I’m going to try but, as you can probably guess, I am easily distracted.

**Author's Note:**

> My absolute favourite trope in The Hobbit fandom is the "thorin, fili and kili live and Bilbo moves to Erebor." If he takes little Frodo, all the better for me. (For the sake of Fanfic, let's just say Frodo was born 30 years before he actually did.) I think there are some ridiculously well-written, amazingly developed fics out featuring this particular premise, but I shall just indulge myself a bit, so these will just be a set of drabbles based on the prompt table 100.3 at [quill_ it](http://quill-it.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Timeline [here](http://daniskatra.tumblr.com/post/67088669733/the-road-goes-ever-on-and-on-timeline).
> 
>  ~~Updates on Thursdays.~~ EDIT: I AM SO UNRELIABLE, IT'S RIDICULOUS, SORRY! **Fair warning: updates whenever.**


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